When born I hungered for them, at ten I longed for them. By fourteen I had nightmares that they would never appear. At sixteen I stuffed my bra with cotton socks and wool, dressed for the british legion disco, a sparkler would have had less wow.
Platform shoes, angora halterneck top, high waisted sailor trousers a blush pink lipstick topped with a sqirt of xanadou… I was ready.
I memorized the latest hits, placed a poppy on the memorial for luck, but my memory let me down, my membership had elapsed , memories of mamories that night were dashed, I was deflated, my padding come adrift.